


throw me in the deep end (watch me drown)

by Pinkmanite



Series: hold me down [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Infidelity, M/M, Power Imbalance, Sneaking Around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 18:16:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15418773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkmanite/pseuds/Pinkmanite
Summary: Kas swallows. Kas sighs. Kas still wanders down the hall until he gets to Kyle’s bedroom.“We’ve got like, two hours,” is how Kyle says hello.“Then we should probably get to it,” Kas greets him back.





	throw me in the deep end (watch me drown)

Kas misses Will, and it’s kind of really obvious.

It’s not a huge deal, because he still like, lives with him, sees him most days out of the week. It’s just different, not having Will at his center, and especially different not having Will at his side all the time.

It feels a little lonely, actually.

The thing is, it shouldn’t be. The Marlies truly feel like family, a lot of these guys are people that Kas would consider his brothers, that Kas would do absolutely anything for. It’s not like Will got called up and left Kas with nothing else, but it’s just. Will got called up.

Of course Kas is happy for him, absolutely and without a doubt. But. He misses him. William Nylander has this way of wiggling a place into peoples’ lives without so much of an introduction, always managing to leave enough of an impression that his absence is unignorable.

Kas doesn’t try to project it everywhere, but he can’t help it, he’s moping. And it’s not long before everyone knows, everyone realizes.

It’s not long before Dubas comes around, taps him on the shoulder and asks him to come to his office once he’s finished up.

Well, fuck. Way to screw everything up, Kapanen.

Except, when Kas walks into the office, Dubas doesn’t look upset, maybe even the opposite. He’s comfortable in his chair, smirk on his face. He eyes Kas up, and Kas doesn’t know what to do with that.

“Um,” is all he manages.

“Have a seat,” Dubas tells him.

So Kas does, sits awkwardly in the chair across Dubas’ desk. He feels off balance, out of place, even though he’s been in here a million times before, even though he knows Dubas, knows Dubas knows him.

“So you wanted to talk about something…?” Kas trails off, fidgeting. Nervous.

But Dubas just grins, wide and cocky. He doesn’t say anything for a second, leaves only the buzz of the overhead lights to fill the otherwise deafening silence. It keeps Kas on edge, makes him feel sick, makes him feel —

“I have a proposition for you.”

Perhaps it’s a beginning; perhaps it’s an end.

 

~

 

_come over_

 

~

 

It’s kind of ridiculous how that’s all it takes for Kas to drop everything and get in the car, summoned like a servant to Kyle’s bidding.

He has a choice, of course, but it’s hard, nearly impossible, to choose no.

God, it’s embarrassing, how easy he is for Kyle.

Not that it changes anything.

So that’s how Kas finds himself parking around the corner from Kyle’s building, in a spot that’s started to become his regular. That’s a scary thought, so Kas pushes it down, tries not to think too hard about it.

He lets himself in, with they key Kyle slipped him weeks ago, with a shiteating grin and glint in his eye before he pushed Kas face-first into his mattress and ate him out until he begged and begged and —

“In the bedroom.” And that’s Kyle’s voice, muffled from the other room, but echoing off the clean blank walls. Kas toes off his shoes and shucks off his coat, careful to put them in the closet, a usual place in the middle of Kyle’s stuff, where they blend in like they belong.

Hidden away. Disguised.

Kas swallows. Kas sighs. Kas still wanders down the hall until he gets to Kyle’s bedroom.

“We’ve got like, two hours,” is how Kyle says hello.

“Then we should probably get to it,” Kas greets him back.

But Kyle looks pleased. He loves it when Kas gets sassy, loves it when he fights him and makes it a challenge, makes it a _game_. Kyle fucking loves to play games.

Kyle fucking loves to win their games.

Not that Kas doesn’t enjoy playing along. Not that Kas isn’t as much a participant in this, too. If Kyle is fucked up, then Kas must be too, dragged down right along with him.

If someone were to throw him a lifesaver, he’s not sure that’d he’d grab on.

He’s plucked out of his thoughts by Kyle, who presses right up against him, pushes him into the wall. He doesn’t waste time, tips his chin back and kisses him, hard and dirty. Their teeth clash together, when Kas gets with it, starts to push back. Kyle groans, smiles against Kas’s lips, wide enough that he can feel it.

Somehow Kyle manages to manhandle him until the backs of his legs hit the edge of the bed and he’s falling, unbalanced, right where Kyle wants him. He scoots up the bed, just to make Kyle follow him, chase him, earn him just a little bit, because Kas gets to have just that much, deserves to have that much.

Maybe Kyle just feels like indulging him, because he laughs and plays along, on him again in seconds, kissing him against the headboard and pinning him down by his wrists.

Kas doesn’t let him have it that easily, though, never would. He yanks against his hold, kicks at him and writhes, but yet leans into his kisses and cants his hips up and up again and again, shameless in going for what he really wants.

And yet again, Kyle indulges him, but holds him down all the same.

His resolve is slipping and slipping, until he’s given in enough for Kyle to yank his shirt off, pulling at Kas’s collar until it slips over his head, caught on his nose, and yanked again until it comes free. His sweats and his boxers come off even easier.

Easier and easier and easier.

Kyle’s still mostly dressed, of course, because he’s into that shit. The sleeves of his button down rolled to his elbows, the top few buttons undone. His hair is messy, his slacks beginning to wrinkle.

He pauses, actually, fumbles until his belt buckle comes undone and can flick the button and the zipper open with his thumb. He tucks his dick out of his underwear, lets it bob rudely against Kas’s thigh.

Kyle wraps his hand around Kas’s dick, more than aware that it’s too tight, too fast, too hard, too _much_. It’s exactly how Kyle wants, whatever Kyle wants. Kas practically _yells_.

It must be some kind of special occasion, or Kyle’s just in a particularly good mood, because the next thing Kas knows, his dick is halfway down Kyle’s throat, and _holy shit_ that’s, uh, that’s a _lot_.

“Oh my god, oh my god.”

“Like that?” Kyles pops up just to say, cheeky, then goes right back in, swallowing him down like it’s easy, like it’s nothing, like this is just another errand for him.

Kas tries to buck up into it, desperately chasing his own pleasure because honestly, screw whatever it is Kyle wants. It’s always what Kyle wants. This is what Kas wants.

But Kyle knows, Kyle is ready for it. He holds him down with ready forearms, pressed firm across his hip bones. Kyle keeps him right where he wants him, and does only what he pleases. Nothing’s changed.

Groaning, Kas tries not to think too hard on it, tries to convince himself that there’s still something in it for him, that he’s still in control here. That he hasn’t let Kyle win just quite yet.

“Come on, Kyle, come the fuck on,” Kas gasps, tries to get his hands in Kyle’s hair.

But Kyle must expect that, too, because he swats his hands away and smacks him on the thigh, sharp and cruel.

“Asshole— _oh,_ ” Kas tries to complain, but is cut off when Kyle hums around him, takes him all the way down. He’s got a fingertip brushing soft circles around Kas’s entrance, and it’s so much at once, way too much, overwhelming.

Kas groans, loud and shameless and easy and—

There’s a gasp.

The next thing Kas knows, there’s yelling, and he’s being yanked out of bed, automatically scrambling for his clothes. He’s barely got his shirt back over his head before there’s hands fisted angrily in the front of it.

Too small, too soft to be Kyle’s.

He’s already thrown out the door and on the street before he realizes what’s happened.

Shit.

 

~

 

He gets a text almost three hours later, from a number without a contact name.

And that’s how he knows it’s all fucked.

That _he’s_ fucked.

 

~

 

_don’t ever come back._

 

~

 

It’s pretty screwed up because Kyle _knew_ there were risks. He was fully fucking aware and still wanted this, pushed for it. And that’s not on Kas, it’s absolutely not on Kas.

That’s what he keeps trying to tell himself, anyway.

Like. Of course he knew there was a wife, everyone knows there’s a wife. She’s at every event, she’s in every photo. He talks about her all the time, and it’d actually be kind of sappy and cute and whatever if it wasn’t for. Well. If it wasn’t for _Kas_.

The worst part is that he can’t tell anyone, can't tell Will; which sucks because Will would listen — Will _always_ listens — and then tells him what he wants to hear, tells him that he’s okay and that he’s going to get past whatever fuck up it happens to be this time around.

But he can’t tell Will, he can’t tell anyone.

And, sure, Kyle is pissing him off right now, because somehow Kyle thinks he has a right to be mad at _him_ for reasons unknown. Would it be that much worse to confess their secrets to his best friend? Maybe not. But Kas is above that, he's not the bad guy here and he doesn’t intend on becoming the bad guy.

So instead, he keeps his mouth shut and stares into his bowl of KD, miserably twirling his fork through it, as if it’ll solve his problems.

“Dude, you okay?” Will says from across their kitchen island, like he can read his mind, like he can just _sense_ that Kas is losing it, like he can hear that something is loud in his head and he just can’t shut it up.

But Kas looks up from his half-eaten dinner, appetite long gone, and shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m cool.” He shrugs.

Will gives him a weird look. “You sure? You’re kind of, like, mopey?”

Kas does his best to give a smile, even though he knows that Will can probably see right though it. Even though he knows it’ll probably worry Will even more. But he also knows that it’s kind of like a secret message for them, knows that Will will see it and know to leave it be, will know that Kas doesn’t want to talk about it.

Or, well, _won’t_ talk about it, to be more correct.

“Okay, if you say so,” Will says, just like Kas knew he would. “You up for Smash Bros, then?”

Kas smiles, because yeah, he could use the distraction.

“Yeah, alright,” he sets down his fork. “Get ready to get wrecked.”

Will laughs, bright, with that shine in his eye that lights up the whole fucking room.

“Tch, you wish you could wreck this.”

Well. If only he knew. 

 

~

 

Kyle doesn’t completely ignore him, because he’s a professional and he isn’t that dumb, but it’s incredibly obvious that Kyle’s doing his absolute best to avoid him unless necessary.

Which, Kas kind of understands; he’d probably do the same if he were Kyle. But he’s not, and therefore, is just a little ticked off.

Just because Kyle made a mess doesn’t mean that Kas has to get dirtied up along with it.

“You can’t avoid me forever,” Kas hums, maybe a little cruel, when he runs into Kyle in the parking lot. Purely by chance, of course, but when opportunity presents itself…

“I’m not avoiding you,” Kyle says automatically, a reflex, almost.

Kas rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me, too, Kyle.”

And, yeah, maybe that’s a little too far, because Kyle flinches, stung, but Kas keeps face, shrugs, like it doesn’t mean anything at all.

He’s gotten pretty good at this. He doesn’t know what of make of that.

“Fine,” Kyle runs a hand through his hair, stressed. “I feel like shit, okay? My wife’s pissed—”

“As she should be,” Kas hums, just a little accusingly.

“Don’t even,” Kyle says, “I’m just trying to salvage my fucking marriage.”

Kas doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t stop pushing. He isn’t subtle when he eyes Kyle up and down, lingering on his lips and flicking his gaze back up to blink at Kyle through his lashes.

He bites at his lip, slow and pointed. Daring Kyle to react.

“Stop that,” is what Kyle finally spits up, breathy and strained.

If this had been a few months earlier, if this had been before Kas had learned to control himself, he’d probably laugh right there, right in Kyle’s face. Because, god, Kyle is so fucking predictable, so fucking easy.

It’s disgusting, really.

Which. Kas doesn’t even know what he’d doing here. He doesn’t know why he’s still here, still doing this. He doesn’t know what game he’s playing, doesn’t know what why he’s playing it. But it’s too late to back out now, because he’s winning, and – after all – Kas is an athlete. Any win is worth the win.

Somewhere, deep, deep down, there’s a pinch, a gut feeling, that tells him he can still get out of this, mostly unscathed.

Kas always did like to play with fire.

“Leafs are on a road trip,” Kas says, as nonchalant as anyone could be in this situation. The suggestion is more than obvious, the _so Will’s not home and my apartment is free_ is heard loud and real fucking clear.

Kyle doesn’t say anything, just walks up to Kas’s car and gets into the passenger side without a word.

Typical.

 

~

 

Really, Kas should be more offended that Kyle treats him the way he does, but maybe it says a lot more that Kas doesn't realize it until he's already thinking about ending it.

Staring at Kyle's stupid text from his stupid drop phone, he's never felt so fucking over it.

It doesn't take much more than a quick glance over the top of his phone screen to spot Will, who's cocooned in his favorite blanket across the couch from him. He doesn't notice, too focused on the television, where he's watching the recorded episodes of Walking Dead he missed while he was on the road.

It's just. He looks so peaceful, so relaxed, in a way that Kas only ever gets to see when it's just the two of them at home, pocketed away from the rest of the world and stripped down to the truest of themselves they could possibly be.

Kas knows he's not the only one who ever gets to see Will like this, but he's one of the few, and that's enough for him.

His phone vibrates in his hand, and the moment is broken, time already up on his stolen view.

It's Kyle again.

Kas swallows. Ignores it again.

He's already seen this episode, so he's really just fucking around on his phone, swiping up and down with 2048 open, playing more on chance than brains. It's whatever, he doesn't care all that much.

He doesn't care.

So it's kind of a real fucking nuisance when Kyle's contact picture overtakes his phone screen, phone vibrating incessantly in his hand, when Kyle fucking _calls_ him.

Will looks up, just a little, a jut of his chin, from his corner on the couch. Curious.

Kas sighs. "Gotta take this, sorry bro."

"Want me to pause it?" Will blinks, already moving for the remote.

But Kas shakes his head, waves his hand no. "It's cool. I'll uh, I'll be right back."

He makes is escape, a little hasty, and Will's gotta know that something's up, but he's a good friend, doesn't pry. He doesn't say anything, just lets Kas go, even when he must hear the lock on his bedroom door click.

They never lock their doors.

But Kas can't take the risk, not now. Already learned that lesson.

He hits accept, maybe a little too hard. "What?"

"Cranky?" Kyle guffaws, indignant on the other end. "What's your problem?"

"Sorry, forgot that I'm supposed to at your beck and call twenty-four-seven," Kas spits. "I was in the middle of something, what do you want?"

He hears Kyle hum on the other end, crackly and tinny and awful all at once. "You can read. Come over?"

"No." And Kas hangs up.

His phone is vibrating again almost immediately. He sighs, picks it back up.

"I don't think we should do this anymore," Kas says this time, talking over whatever bullshit Kyle has for him this time.

Kyle stops short, falling silent.

And, finally, there's the reaction, there's what Kas has been looking for. The satisfaction.

God, it feels good.

"Come on," Kyle finally says, a little ticked off. "What, do you want to negotiate? Is that what this is? Tell me what you want, Kas. More ice time? Is that what this is?"

"What the _fuck_ ," Kas almost shouts, but remembers Will's in the next room and hushes up pretty quickly. "That's the opposite of what this is about. Actually? The fact that you that's what this is about? That's why this needs to stop."

"Don't be like that—"

"Fuck you."

Kas hangs up again, throws his phone on his bed and leaves it there, because he knows Kyle will call him again.

But this time, he won’t pick up.

 

~

 

Kas wanders out of his bedroom the next morning, still half-asleep and not fully operational quite yet. Phone dead, just now plugged back in, yet to turn back on. The details aren’t all there but god, does he need a fucking espresso right now.

“Hey, Kappy,” Will says from where he’s perched on a stool at their kitchen island, coffee in one hand, phone lazily held in the other. “Everything okay?” He pauses when Kas makes a confused face. “From last night?”

Oh.

Kas takes a deep breath and does that thing he does best, the one where he hides away as much as he can until he’s unreadable.

Unreadable, even to Will.

“Yeah, it’s all good. Actually” he takes a breath, “a lot better.”

Will believes him easily, and smiles wide and golden like he always does. It's nice, refreshing, almost. 

And, yeah, Kas thinks.

A _lot_ better.

 

 

 

 

 

_(tbc)._

 

**Author's Note:**

> • Shoutout to penaleaf for [this comment](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/174637602) that uh put the seed in my head for this
> 
> • Happy (?) birthday kappy? lol I'm so sorry
> 
> • Part three? Cue the "William Nylander re-sign like right now" challenge
> 
> • Twitter -> @[pinkmanite](http://www.twitter.com/pinkmanite)


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